


Groundhog Night

by were_lemur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, First Time, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/were_lemur/pseuds/were_lemur
Summary: Sam is desperate enough to try anything, even being honest with Dean about how he feels.





	Groundhog Night

Sam opens his eyes to "Heat of the Moment."

Twenty minute later, he trudges determinedly toward Phil's Diner, the dread lodged in the pit of his stomach heavy to the point of nausea. He's on the lookout for whatever is going to kill Dean _this time_ , though he should know by now; whatever it is, there's nothing he can do to stop it. Even if he can steer Dean around the deaths he knows are there, whatever malign force is keeping him here will just find another way to kill Dean while he watches, helplessly.

Just like he has the past fifty-six Tuesdays.

He picks Mr. Pickett's pocket on his way to their usual table, and listens glumly as Dean chatters about pig in a poke and then about finding Bela; he doesn't have the energy to explain, yet again, that they're caught in a time loop.

They order, Doris brings their coffee, and this time, he can't even summon up the energy to put his hand out to catch the hot sauce. Just stares at it as it falls and shatters, and Doris calls for a clean-up.

There has to be some clue, some angle, he hasn't tried yet.

Maybe he should try picking Dean's brain?

"Word association," he said. "If I were to say 'Groundhog Day'..."

"Great movie. Bill Murray, I actually think it's probably his best role, yeah, even better than 'Caddyshack. Um. Romantic comedy, but not one of the creepy ones where the guy won't take no for an answer and eventually wins the woman's heart by sheer persistence, I mean, what the hell kind of message does that send to guys? 'Just keep trying, even if she says no'? Ugh." He shuddered.

"Go on."

"What's with the film studies class?"

"I'm just curious."

Dean takes another sip of his coffee. "Bill Murray, Andie McDowell, I can't imagine having to wake up to 'I Got You Babe' every morning for however many hundreds or thousands of mornings he was in the time loop."

Sam can sympathize.

"Anyway, Bill Murray finally escapes when he's gotten to be a good enough guy to win Andie McDowell's heart, and they live happily ever after in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. The end."

There's going to be no happy ending for Dean, the voice in the back of his head whispers. No matter what he does.

But maybe that's the key. Maybe telling Dean how he really feels about him -- how he's always felt about him -- will get them both out of this.

Dean spends the rest of the meal chatting about movies, segueing from 'Groundhog Day' to 'Ghostbusters' to some half-remembered movie they'd watched on a motel room tv as kids. When they leave, Sam suggests they head back to the hotel room. They're just turning the last corner when a tween in a Justin Bieber t-shirt throws her banana peel in the general direction of the trash can and keeps walking.

Naturally, Dean steps on the banana peel. 

*

Sam opens his eyes to "Heat of the Moment."

He ignores Dean's call to "rise and shine," and lies there, even as Dean turns up the volume, pondering the possibilities. He'd never before considered telling Dean how he feels about him. He knows it's not normal; he learned about the Westermarck effect in psych class.

But their lives haven't been "normal" since he was six months old.

In any case, it's something he hasn't tried yet. That's a big plus right there. And if it doesn't work, if Dean says he doesn't feel the same way, at least they won't have to deal with the awkwardness the next day.

He doesn't know how he's going to seduce his brother -- no, that's the wrong way to think about it. He needs to be honest, for once in his life, about his deeper feelings for Dean.

He gets out of bed, pulls on his clothes. Heads into the bathroom.

He might love Dean, but there are some moments where he definitely doesn't _like_ Dean. Especially when Dean is squeezing the toothpaste from the middle -- again -- or gargling for hours, or holding out the bra that Susie or Sydney or whatever her name had been had left behind two nights ago in Atlanta.

At the diner, Sam decides that, what the hell, he'll try the pig in a poke, too, which earns a smile from Dean. And it's not bad, and the side of fruit salad is, for once, not just squares of under-ripe melon, but actual strawberries, pineapple, and orange.

"I've been thinking. We should talk about how we feel. You know, about each other." Okay, not the most graceful way he could have possibly brought up the subject … 

"No, we shouldn't." Dean takes another bite of his pig in a poke. "We should be concentrating on figuring out what happened to this Hasselback guy, so we can get back to hunting Bela."

"I'm serious. We never talk."

"Sure we talk. We talk all the time."

"Not about how we feel about each other."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Why the chick-flick all of a sudden?"

"You know, I, we should just talk."

"My god, you're a freak," Dean declares. He shoves the rest of the pig in a poke into his mouth, and Sam has the alarmed thought that they're going to have a repeat of death-by-choking, but the last of the coffee gets it safely down. He drops a twenty on the table. "Gonna head back to the room. Let me know when you're done with the touchy-feely kumbaya crap."

"Watch for banana peels," Sam calls.

Dean turns is head and asks "what?" right as Doris comes out from the kitchen with an extra steak knife for the guy who dropped his, they collide, and Dean staggers back, bleeding, and collapses by their table.

*

Sam opens his eyes to "Heat of the Moment."

Maybe, Sam decides, the diner isn't the best venue for their talking-about-feelings. So he stays quiet through breakfast, but this time he guides Dean to the beach.

"You think we're going to find Hassleback here? He's gonna be just, what, taking in the local wildlife?" He glances along the shore. "What little there is. Even on a Tuesday, you'd think there would be _somebody_ out."

Sam's grateful that he doesn't have to compete with a bikini for Dean's attention. "I thought we could use a little down time. You know, talk."

"We don't need to talk. We need to find Hassleback so we can move on to finding Bela."

"A few minutes, clearing the air, might do us some good."

"Clearing the air about what?"

"How I feel about you. How you feel about me."

"Okay." He starts to singsong. "I love you, you love me, let's just salt and burn Barney -- "

"I'm being serious, Dean."

"So am I. That purple monstrosity needs to go down." He turns and starts walking away, but then looks over his shoulder at Sam. " _After_ we track down Bela."

He steps onto the bike path just as the cyclist in the yellow jersey whips around the curve.

*

Sam opens his eyes to "Heat of the Moment."

This time, he decides to wait, on the theory that evening is a better time to have a romantic walk on the beach and a heart-to-heart conversation.

They're just crossing onto the beach when the runaway dune buggy lunches from the sand dune, getting an impressive amount of air before crashing back to Earth, right where Dean is standing.

*

Sam opens his eyes to "Heat of the Moment."

The runaway dune buggy launches from the sand dune, getting an impressive amount of air before crashing back to Earth, ten feet from where they're standing. Sam and Dean stand watching, as the guy who'd been driving limps down the sand dune, cursing, and staggers over to the wreck.

"I'd hate to be that guy," Dean says.

They make their way down to the shoreline. Dean takes off his boots and socks and rolls his jeans up as far as they will go, and after a moment, Sam does the same. He follows Dean out ankle-deep into the water. The moon is rising, and they have the beach pretty much to themselves.

"It's nice out here," Sam says. "Kinda … romantic?"

Dean snorts. "Romantic walk along the beach, with my brother. What's wrong with this picture?"

"Nothing, necessarily." This is all going wrong. He doesn't want to propose to Dean, he wants to proposition him.

"Maybe we should go back to the motel," he says.

"My god, you're a freak," Dean says. He takes one step, and then makes a choking sound. Then he falls face-forward into the water.

Even knowing it's pointless, Sam hurries toward Dean. As he approaches, he sees a box jellyfish, its dangling stingers wrapped around Dean's bare ankle.

*

Sam opens his eyes to "Heat of the Moment."

He spends the day going through the motions of investigating the Mystery Spot, maneuvering Dean around the deadly traps that the town has in store for him. They head back to Phil's for dinner, and make an early night of it at the motel.

Sam uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth, then heads out to where Dean is flipping channels. "Can we both agree that the Mystery Spot was a dud, and go back to looking for Bela tomorrow?"

"Believe me, Dean, nothing would make me happier than putting this town in the rear-view mirror."

Dean turns off the TV. "Nothing interesting on." He stands, stretches, and Sam decides it's now or never. He steps into Dean's arms, and kisses him full on the mouth.

For a moment, Dean doesn't react, just stands there, surprised. Then he steps back. "Quit screwing around, Sammy."

"Actually, I was hoping that we could do exactly that."

"Exactly what?"

"Screw around."

"Sammy, that's, it's wrong, we're _brothers,_ man!"

"Dean, listen to me. Let me get how I feel off my chest. I want -- I've wanted -- you. The first time I ever jerked off, it was thinking of you."

"We're brothers, we're not supposed to -- "

"We're not supposed to live in a car and survive on stolen credit cards and kill things that look like humans, either, Dean. We're already violating a hell of a lot of social mores."

"Mores?" He tries to sing, "when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie -- "

"Dean please, just be straight with me -- "

"Or not-straight, in this case."

"Dean. I'm serious. If you don't feel like I do, just tell me. But if you do -- "

For a long moment, Dean stands there, deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. But then he takes a deep breath, steps close to Sam, and kisses him back. It's tentative, as if he's still not quite sure this isn't some joke, but when Sam slips the tip of his tongue against his lips, his mouth opens and the kiss becomes demanding.

Sam lets Dean push him up against the wall, pressing their bodies together Finally, though, Dean comes up for air. "Do you want -- ?"

"More," Sam says.

"Bed?"

"Bed."

They fall onto Dean's bed; it's closer. For a moment, they do nothing but grind against each other, through their clothes. But it's not enough, and Sam goes for Dean's belt and fly, and then Dean's cock is in his hands. He strokes it, and Dean arches against him.

But it's not enough. "I want you inside me, Dean."

"I can't -- I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me, Dean. I've done this before -- well, sort of."

"How do you 'sort of' take it in the butt?"

"Jess wanted to try pegging."

It had been a one-time thing, though he would have happily repeated the experiment; he'd spent the whole time pretending that it was Dean who was opening him, stretching him, filling him completely.

But Dean, he realizes, is considerably larger than the My First Strap-On that Jessica had used on him.

That only makes him want it more.

He pulls out the jar of lube he pocketed eariler, and hands it over. Dean looks at it for a moment, then lubes up a finger. "How do you want to do this?"

"Naked would probably be a better idea." Sam strips off his clothes, then lies back.

The first finger goes in easy, and when there are two , Dean starts to stretch Sam in earnest. He gets another finger in, and wraps his other hand around Sam's cock.

"No," Sam moans.

"What's wrong?"

"You do that, I'll come before you even get inside me."

Dean nods and takes his hands away. He kicks his way out of his clothes and then rolls on a condom, and strokes himself with a palm full of lube. He lies back.

"What -- "

"I want you to be able to control how much you can take. I can't deal with hurting you, Sammy."

So it's not how he always imagined this happening; Sam will take whatever he can get. He straddles Dean, and reaches behind, to get Dean's cock into position. Then he catches Dean's eyes and holds his gaze while he sinks down on Dean's cock, one smooth motion.

"Oh god, Sammy -- "

For a long moment, Sam stays were he is, getting used to the sensations, enjoying the fact that it's Dean filling him so completely.

Sam begins to ride him in earnest, then, rocking Dean's cock in and out of his body. Dean's hands clench on Sam's thighs. "Say when you want me to start in on you."

It doesn't take Sam long to get to the edge. Rather than trying to tell Dean, he grips his own cock, strokes once, twice, three times and then he feels himself clench around Dean. Dean arches up into him, going rigid.

Then the tension drains out of him. He goes limp on top of Dean, shuddering and gasping, and Dean traces his spine with a fingertip.

For a long while they lie there, drifting in and out of sleep.

Sam opens his eyes and realizes that, according to the clock, it's 11:58.

Almost time. Maybe he's actually managed to do it this time, to break them free of whatever curse has kept them here.

The clock flips over to 11:59.

A meteor breaks orbit and enters the Earth's atmosphere. By the time it's made the journey, it's melted away to the size of a grape.

It impacts the roof of the motel, smashes through the ceiling, and slams into Dean's skull, killing him instantly.

*

Sam opens his eyes to "Heat of the Moment."


End file.
